


Elbow Room

by botanyprince



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanyprince/pseuds/botanyprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I cannot believe I just accidentally locked both myself and Dave Strider inside of this tiny practice room. (more to come!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elbow Room

Your name is Carson Crawford. You're a Junior at some tiny boarding school in England, and you honestly have no clue as to why John is friends with this guy. You also don't know why you're delivering something to him? It's not like John has the inability to walk, he could just as well go to the music practice room and give Dave his flash drive, but instead he asked you to do it, because he wanted to hang out with his girlfriend. Which is stupid, because it takes literally a whole three minutes to walk from the dorm lounge to the room, six minutes in total, which really isn't that much time. But whatever, you don't mind all that much. And not in the sarcastic "Oh no it's totally FIIINE" kind of way, you genuinely don't really care. 

The only reason you're feeling crabby about it is because it's Dave Strider. If he didn't try so fucking hard all the time to be a cool kid you wouldn't mind him as much, but holy christ he tries so hard. And the worst part is that he actually kinda succeeds. People flip their shit over how "totally awesome" it is that he can throw some noises together to make "music". That's the whole reason why you're here. You glance at the flash drive filled with various wubs and dubs and high pitched eagle cries as you walk through the door leading out of the dorm. Looking up at the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, you mime throwing the drive into the water. Of course, only a huge tool would actually do that, Dave may annoy the ever-living shit out of you, but the flash drive was probably pricey, and it would disappoint John. 

The Creative Arts building lies across from the courtyard, and it takes mere seconds to cross it and pull open the door. There are still some kids painting and dancing and acting and such despite it being nearly ten at night; although really, it's not much different than pulling an all nighter studying, in a way. You walk up a flight of stairs, turn some corners, and you're there. You walk into the room and close the door behind you, checking your phone as you do so. As you thought, three minutes has gone by since you left the lounge. A scoff and a sigh escapes you as you look around. The room is divided into four smaller rooms, technically five if you include the "main entrance" where you can access the smaller practice rooms. You look into the small windows on each door until you see him. He's got some fancy pair of headphones on and he's at his turntables. Why the hell would a teenager need turntables? You fight the urge to scoff and sigh again and knock on the door. 

He doesn't hear. 

Another knock. 

No reaction.

"Hey Strider you fuck face I have your flash drive with your shitty ass Dubstep noises on it!"

Again no response.

You open the door and step into the tiny room, another shout relays still no response from Dave, you figure he has the music up really loud. You tap him on the shoulder, and it awards you the silliest fucking screech and jump you've ever seen in your entire life. He spins around, yanks off the headphones, and puts on his stupid ass poker face, but not before you're able to catch a glimpse of how ridiculous he looks when he's shocked and surprised. 

"Whoa dang Crawford, didn't know you were such a diehard fan that you tracked me down to listen to my music. I understand how much you want to be my groupie, but you can't just sneak up on me like that."

"Dude holy shit I can still see you breathing heavily because of how much I scared you, plus your pupils are the size of fucking golf-balls, don't try to act cool because it's just really sad."

Dave immediately averts his gaze the second you mention his pupils; and it's no surprise. You can tell he wears brown colored contacts, really good ones though. So good that the untrained eye wouldn't be able to tell. Your eyes, however are very trained, and you can tell their contacts because you wear the exact same brand to cover your real eye color.

"Are you running John's errands now or what?" Dave motions to the flash drive in your hand. You hand it to him and retort, "No, I'm just such a good friend that I agreed in giving it to you, unlike some people who are too lazy to get off their ass to get their own shit."

"Well, unlike some people, I was in the middle of doing something, and I couldn't leave."

"It takes like six minutes to walk from here to the lounge and back!"

"What you actually timed it?"

"Yeah, so what? I was curious."

Dave stared blankly at you for a few seconds, then shrugged and turned around. "Thanks delivery boy."

"Yeah whatever", you mumble. You leave the practice room and close the door, back in the main area of the room. You put your hand on the door-knob and give it a twist, put it doesn't move.

You twist it the other way, no movement.

You notice a small Post-It note lying on the ground next to the door.

"Please leave door open! Faulty lock, cannot leave unless you have key."

A groan builds up inside you and escapes your lips. You turn around and open the door to the little room again. Dave turns around with a raised eyebrow.

"Came back for more?"

"No asshole, do you have the key?"

"The key?"

A feeling of dread spreads across your body, "Yeah the key to the door out there? The note fell down so I didn't see it and I closed the door."

"You did what?" Dave rushes past you to the main door. He twists the knob one way, twists it another, and groans.

"I can't fucking believe you closed the door. There is a note literally right there that says to not close the door."

"No holy shit I just said that the note was on the ground, therefore, I didn't see it." You slide down the wall and sit on the ground. "Here, lemme just text John or someone and get them to come and open it."

Dave mimics your action, sliding down to the ground. "No can do, there's no service in here, I had to step out of the room to text John about the flash drive." And sure enough, as you pull out your phone, the little bars showing signal that are normally filled up have been replaced with a tiny red X.

"Carson Crawford, King of Fucking Up Royally."

"Shut up, what about your laptop?"

"What part of no signal don't you understand? I can't access the school's WiFi in here, there's no router."

"What? That's fucking stupid, why wouldn't there be a router?"

"Because it's a MUSIC PRACTICE ROOM. There isn't really a need for high speed internet when you're playing the Oboe."

You both sigh and sit there. A thousand thoughts bounce around your head, all of them going along the lines of "I cannot believe I just accidentally locked both myself and Dave Strider inside of this tiny practice room."


End file.
